


Cupid Owl

by Rei382



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Very Drarry Valentine's Day Exchange, Angst, M/M, Matchmaking, Mention of sex toys (no use), Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rei382/pseuds/Rei382
Summary: Harry and Draco had given up on the 'traditional' way of finding a Significant Other, finding it very difficult with their celebrity status. Who'd thought the matchmaking system would pair them up? Certainly neither Harry nor Draco.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 220
Collections: A Very Drarry Valentine's Day Exchange





	1. Harry's POV

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serrenedy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serrenedy/gifts).



> I would like to thank all the people who helped me building this up and beta'ing: Ausynja, Notealeft and Fay! You did great job and helped me get this done :)

_ As more and more people have difficulty finding a partner without the help of matchmaking services and dating websites, it was only a matter of time before someone launched a dating site that looks for potential matches based on DNA compatibility. That time is apparently today with the launch of  _ [ _ GenePartner _ ](http://www.genepartner.com/) _. The Switzerland-based company says they can use a $199 DNA test to help you find your perfect match, statistically speaking. They’ve analysed “hundreds of couples” and have determined the genetic patterns found in successful relationships.  _

Sharp knocks on his window made Harry look up from his the news report on telly (not that the article was very interesting; match making based on DNA! Ridiculous) and turn his eyes towards the window. A large, brown owl was sitting on his windowsill, an envelope in its beak. It was unfamiliar, and Harry wasn’t expecting any mail. At least, none that he could remember. However, there was a storm (okay, now he was just exaggerating – there was slightly heavy rain) outside, and he felt sorry for poor creature. So he got up and opened the window to let the owl in. It let out a short hoot of appreciation, dropped its delivery on the first surface it saw, and proceeded to rest near Harry’s heater. Unsure of how far it had to travel, Harry hurried to get it some snack first, giving one to Althea, his own owl, on the way. Both owls hooted a thanks, and proceeded to eat their respective snacks while Harry walked towards the desk where the owl had dropped its letter. He picked it up, glancing at his address written on the envelope in an unfamiliar handwriting, and opened it. Inside was a single, relatively short sheet of parchment.

_ Dear Mr. DeadlyFlighty, _

_ Thank you for signing up Cupid Owl! We have reviewed your profile and your request, and are delighted to inform you that we have found a match for you. As per the rules, the name will not be revealed until you and your match decide to reveal it to each other, but please see some details below: _

_ Username: SinCharming25 _

_ Gender: Male _

_ Age: 28 _

_ Height: 183 centimeters _

_ Hair colour: Blond _

_ Eye colour: Light blue _

_ Hobbies: Quidditch, books, cooking, playing the violin _

_ Likes: Sunsets, good art, good food, finding that book that makes you forget where you are, quiet nights at home _

_ Dislikes: Politics, large crowds, idle talk, getting sunburnt _

_ What I am looking for: Someone who can look beyond the obvious. Someone understanding and kind. Someone to share cold nights under the blankets with. _

__

_ If you are interested in starting an interaction with this person, please write your letter and send it back. We will make sure the recipient will receive it. Please note that your match received a similar letter and they will have to agree to communicate with you in order for a connection to be made. In case one of the sides is not interested in starting the communication, we will find a new match for both parties and a notification will be sent in this regard. _

__

_ Best regards, _

_ Helene Bailey _

_ Cupid Owl Operator _

__

Harry looked at the letter he’d just read, staring at the words. A match had been found for him. He had almost forgotten that he had signed up for the service; it took awhile for them to match him to someone. Nevertheless, the letter got him a little excited. His last – meaningful – relationship had been with Ginny Weasley, and that had ended three years ago. They had dated for a long while, had almost gotten engaged, but something… something just hadn’t been quite  _ right _ . She was a very nice girl, and there were no doubts about him liking her family. The Weasleys were the nicest people he had known in his entire life. And he loved Ginny. He did. But it took him too long to realize that he didn’t quite love her  _ enough _ , and in the  _ right way _ . It had taken him too long to realize that her love for him had been too based on her early admiration of him. When they decided to break up, it was on good terms. They still saw each other regularly and were good friends, despite it all. She was now married and seemingly very happy, expecting her first child.

But Harry…

Harry found that finding love, when his name was written in history books since before he knew how to walk, was not an easy task. Oh, he’d had lovers, both men and women. Getting dates, for a night or a little longer, was easy. But it always felt like none of them loved him sincerely. Most of them seemed more excited about being able to say that they’d shagged the Great Harry Potter than actually wanting to be in a relationship with him. It seemed nearly impossible to find someone who liked him because of who he was, rather than because of his fame. He didn’t feel like he could get to really know anyone, and no one was interested in knowing  _ him _ . They wanted to hear all about what he’d done, what it was like to be the Great Harry Potter.

It was exhausting.

And then… then Hermione had shown him this service that one of her coworkers had used and found her husband through. A matchmaking service that allowed for anonymity, for first getting to  _ know _ each other before revealing one’s looks and names. It sounded sketchy, but Harry was willing to give it a shot. A part of him was certain, especially as time passed by and no response came, that it was nothing but a scam. A part of him was scared that they’d use his application form and sell it to the gossip papers, even though theoretically, they did not have his real name, but it did not stop him from getting just a little bit paranoid. What a headline that would make! Harry Potter, in search for love, and gay. Hermione reassured him that they would do no such thing, but he was still skeptical.

But maybe there was something to it, after all. He didn’t know who the man they had matched him up with was. He seemed a bit inauthentic, giving clichéd answers (who  _ did _ like politics or large crowds after all, and who didn’t like quiet nights at home, tucked in with someone special?) , and maybe just a tiny bit of a stuck-up too. His username was ridiculous, but then, the username Hermione and Ron chose for Harry (because he was too anxious to choose his own) wasn’t the best, either. But it was the first chance of something that was more than being paraded around as the Boy Who Lived since forever, and maybe that was worth making the effort and giving it an honest try.

He didn’t have much to lose. He sat down to write his response. 


	2. Draco's POV

_ Dear Mr. SinCharming25, _

__

_ Thank you for being a part of Cupid Owl and for accepting your match. Please find their letter to you attached to this owl post. _

__

Draco gave a treat to the owl that had brought the letter to him as he read the words, leaning back on the headboard of his bed in his apartment in Magical London. Last week he received a letter from the magical matchmaking service that a match had been found for him. He read through the details, and the guy sounded nice. Exactly his type: humble, gentle, and hopelessly romantic. That was exactly why it took him a few days to decide whether he wanted to accept it or not. This would be his thirteenth time trying to find himself a match through this service, but so far, nothing really worked out and all of them ended up being total liars, and/or ugly. Neither of which he could stand. He wasn’t even sure why he kept trying. Why pay for a service that was just as bad as going to the nearby bar? He was about to cancel his subscription (and save those two Galleons a month) but kept delaying it. And now, the letter of his latest match came, and he figured that after three years, one last try wouldn’t hurt.

_ Dear SinCharming25, _

_ You don’t know me (yet), but maybe that’s for the best. I am not very good at letters like this, and this is my first time trying this kind of thing  _ (Draco snorted. Maybe agreeing to communicate with this guy was a mistake, after all, as Draco highly doubted this really was his first time), _ so I’m sorry if I’m being a little bit awkward. I got your profile from the company and I thought we might have a few things in common. You probably already know that, but I love Quidditch, as you do. My favourite team is the Holyhead Harpies. What is yours? I used to play Quidditch in school. I daresay I was quite alright at it, but I never pursued it later. What about you? Do you also play? _

_ I guess… I should say a few more things about me.  _ (Draco arched an eyebrow. Wasn’t that the whole point? Was this guy a completely daft?)  _ You already know the basics, like, my age and things like that… Did you know it is very hard to think about things to say to describe yourself to a total stranger? I’ll say… I live in London. I live in a Muggle neighbourhood, but I have enough Wizarding places around me. I am a QA but don’t worry, I’m not really as boring as it sounds… I hope, anyway! What do you do for a living? _

_ I feel like I’m starting to say nonsense, and probably bore you to death… besides, I hate talking about myself and I feel that that’s all I can do, for now. I’d love to hear more about you, if you’re interested. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ DeadlyFlighty _

__

_ P.S. _

_ Please don’t judge me for my username. My friends picked up that name for me because when they asked me what I can say about myself it was that I love flying and playing Quidditch. Judge them. _

__

_ P.S. II _

_ What’s the story behind your username? If you feel like sharing. _

__

Draco finished reading the letter and was left… He wasn’t sure how to read this guy. He sounded like an idiot, that was for sure. An idiot who did not know how to write a proper letter, and who’s only interesting thing to say about himself was that he liked Quidditch. Draco was now eighty percent sure that accepting this so-called ‘match’ was a mistake. But he was a bored man. He’d have to think about it, probably. Was this guy really worth the effort?

He placed the parchment on his bed and got up to walk towards his kitchen. It was already one pm and certainly about time to have breakfast. He started preparing his favourite breakfast: eggs and bacon, with toasted bread on the side. He missed having a House-elf to do all the housework – cooking included – for him, he also learned to appreciate it. He learned that he enjoyed cooking, for one; at least, when oil didn’t splatter on him while frying bacon.

He swore and cleaned the oil off of his arm. He wasn’t concentrated. Maybe that letter got to him more than he thought. He frowned, and placed the now-ready bacon on his plate. Not that he’d been celibate just because he knew he wouldn’t find The One. He had his needs, and even though he knew how slim the chances were of his chosen partner for the night wouldstay for breakfast or ever show his face again, he couldn’t help but want to have a real human with him rather than using the various colourful artificial options the Wizarding sex toys world had to offer. It always left him empty, worse than he felt before, both toys and men; although humans are always worse, making comments about who he is, who his father is. Some already gave him that vibe from the moment he said his name, but there was, every now and then, an arsehole who pretended to be at least a decent guy only to flip on him right after fucking him. Those were the worst. They made him consider to stop dating altogether, but being who he was and what he did for a living, the temptation was always there, and it was stronger than him.

He sat to eat his breakfast, opening his freshly brought magazine. The first article already made him frown as he put the first piece of bacon in his mouth.

_ Is The Boy Who Lived Expecting? _

_ Harry Potter had been spotted this morning (November 18 _ _ th _ _ ) shopping for baby clothing at Diagon Ally. As everyone knows Potter’s last known relationship had been with Ginny Weasley, Seeker of the Holyhead Harpies. The two had been dating since their school days and it was expected that they would eventually end up married, however they shocked the Wizarding World when they broke their engagement three years ago. Over the past few years there had been various reports about Potter dating other girls, however, none of them were confirmed by Potter or his close people. _

_ Is it possible that Potter had been hiding his significant other from the world, or has he accidentally knocked up a witch who had fallen for him? _

_ “He does have the tendency to skip girls,” says N, a fellow female coworker of Potter who had agreed to talk with our team. “The rumors about him dating had been true, but he never kept a witch for longer than a month, and even that’s exaggerating it.” _

_ It seems certainly possible then that Potter may have an accidental baby outside of marriage! _

_ We will keep following the situation and when the existence or nonexistence of a baby is proven, and when the identity of the secret mother is found, you can be sure that you, dear TMI readers, will be the first to know! _

Draco had no idea why he bothered reading this piece of trash past the title. He glanced at the picture of Potter checking out a very small jumpsuit. He seemed unaware of the photographer, and just kept moving the piece as he was examining it. Draco switched the pages to fashion section, which was why he kept his subscription.

_ Magic or Tragic? _

_ Phoebe Morris, the famous lead singer of The Screaming Sirens, had been spotted wearing a magenta robe with bright yellow embroidery and a bright yellow hat. Has she made a fashion statement, or is she due for the fashion imprisonment? _

Draco looked at the picture of the witch, waving brightly at him. The colors were almost blinding.

“Tragic, oh, so very tragic,” Draco mumbled to himself. He moved on to the next one, where there was a picture of a wizard wearing light blue robes.

_ The Keeper Who Never Misses, Jenson McDonalnd, was spotted dressed in what can only be described as night robes as he was drinking coffee with his girlfriend, a lovely witch named Dottie Austin, at the Wizarding village of Marble Hill. He must have thought they were sitting in their home, since he clearly forgot to change his jammies. This is a definite case of Tragic! _

Draco let out a hum of agreement as he read on. He was almost done with his breakfast when his fireplace sparked to life and he heard his name. He recognised the voice, and let out a sigh when he turned, trying his best not to look like he’d just got out of bed as he approved the call. “Good afternoon, Jensen,” he said to the freckled face in the fireplace.

“Hi Draco, I’m sorry to disturb you at home, but I can’t come to work today…”

Draco nodded. He knew this was coming the moment he heard the voice. He loved his employees, he really did, and Jensen was a good kid. The downside was that they often had issues with showing up to work. “It’s okay. I hope things are okay?”

“Yeah, yes. I can come tomorrow, I think – “

“It’s really alright. Let’s talk again tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Draco, really.”

The fire ebbed away, and Draco was, once again, alone in his apartment. He glanced at his clock. It was already almost 2pm. The bar would open in three hours. He highly doubted he could find a replacement; which meant he would have to work himself tonight. He sighed and returned to his breakfast. He didn’t feel like it, but business was business.

__

  
  



	3. Harry's POV

Unlike what most people might thought, Harry Potter’s life after he finished school was not very exciting. He had his stable job, which was interesting enough for him, and included little enough contact with people so he wasn’t always cornered to talk about his biography. Other than that, he had his small-yet-close group of friends, and that was mostly it. And he liked it. He liked the calm twist his life had taken after the War.

Like today, for example. It was a lovely Sunday, considering the season. Barely any wind, and just a little bit of rain, and he was in the Weasley home, helping Hermione watch Rose, which had become somewhat challenging in the last few months as she was nearing the end of her second pregnancy. Rose was currently busy trying to put together a puzzle of a Quidditch Seeker reaching for the golden Snitch. She was managing quite well on her own, and neither Harry nor Hermione felt any need to help her even though they both made sure to remain close enough, in case she needed them. So they sat on the comfortable living room sofa, sipping from a delicious cup of coffee. Ron was out, with his and Ginny’s team, practicing for the game next weekend. 

“Have you read the latest article at  _ The Prophet _ ?” Hermione asked.

“No, didn’t have the time yet.”

“You should! It has happy news,” Hermione grabbed the paper from the table, and handed it over to Harry. “A small win.”

Harry took it, and allowed Hermione to show him the article she’d meant.

_ Lucius Malfoy’s Appeal Denied _

_ This morning (September 18 _ _ th _ _ ) the appeal that the convicted Death Eater had been denied for the third and last time. Lucius has been claiming that he had been acting out of fear. The court did not buy his excuses, especially after his son (Draco Malfoy, 28) had been able to get off for his crimes on the basis that he was coerced into his role at the war by Malfoy senior, and that he was threatened into acting the way he did. _

_ This is the second time Lucius Malfoy had been caught and put on trial for acting as a Death Eater. The first time (when You-Know-Who had his first fall thanks to Harry Potter, who was then just a baby) Malfoy used the excuse of being put under the Imperius Curse, and he was let go with no consequences. _

_ With his third appeal getting denied, Malfoy is expected to spend the remaining of his life serving his sentence at Azkaban as the court originally ruled at his trial on August 2008. _

“Well, that serves him right. He  _ should _ be locked up for all eternity.” But Harry didn’t really want to talk about that, so he switched the topic. “Did you already decide on a name?” Harry asked casually. He knew that she and Ron have had some discussions about it, with each of them pulling into another direction. It was the same when she was pregnant with Rose; in the end, it was Hermione who’d won the argument, and they named their daughter after Hermione’s grandmother.

Hermione placed her hand on her large stomach. “No, not yet. We have a few ideas, but still can’t decide what to go with.”

“You could probably name him after one of your parents, or grandparents,” Harry suggested.

Hermione smiled at him. “Ron suggested Arthur, but I don’t know… feels a little bit like an old name, doesn’t it?”

Harry wasn’t going to tell her that Rose is an even older name. It was beautiful, though; but he could see her point about Arthur. He had his arguments for and against naming the unborn child after Ron’s father - but then, he probably had no right making such arguments. It wasn’t his child, after all. And when he and Ginny had discussed the idea of having children one day, they were discussing naming the first one after one of Harry’s parents. Maybe it really is for the best that Harry had no children yet.

“It is still a nice name. Well, you two still have, what? Two months left? I am sure in the end you will find the perfect name for little Peanut right there,” he smiled.

Hermione smiled back at him, lifting her stare from her very visible bump. “I know. We did well with Rose.” She looked lovingly at her daughter, who had just managed to find a correct piece for the puzzle and was triumphantly showing it to her mother. “Great job, sweety,” she said, and turned back to Harry. “What about you?”

Harry blinked. “Me? You know, the usual - “

“No, I meant, with what we talked about. Did they finally find you a match? I know I keep asking but usually it really doesn’t take this long…” She sipped her tea. “Maggie got her first match after three days! You’ve been signed up for how long now?”

“I think… four, five months?” 

Hermione clicked her tongue. “Maybe you should write them - “

“No, no, there’s no need. Actually, about a week ago they did send me an owl, saying that they found a match - “

Hermione’s eyes grew with excitement. “Oh! You didn’t tell me! How - “

Harry stopped her. “Please, don’t get so excited,” he said, glancing at Rose who was now looking at them curiously. “He didn’t respond to me yet.”

“Oh… maybe, maybe he’s just busy?.. Oh, Harry, you deserve someone who loves you! It’s a real shame it didn’t work out with you and Ginny…”

He shrugged. “Or maybe he declined the match. Either way… I mean, you know I had my doubts.”

Hermione looked at him, and Harry hated the pity in her eyes. That’s why he hadn’t brought it up to begin with. He was feeling crappy enough about getting declined after  _ one letter _ that he didn’t need her to feel sorry for him, too. “I am sure that eventually they will find someone new for you. You really are a great man, Harry. Even when taking out everything you did for the Wizarding world - great job, sweety, now you can move on to the next puzzle.” Hermione had to stop when Rose was showing her the completed puzzle. She ran off to get another one, accidentally dropping the completed piece on her way. Luckily enough, it was charmed that unless deliberately broken, it stayed as it was, and it was immune to other damages as well. “You’re caring, and smart, and definitely good-looking. Anyone will be lucky to have you.”

Harry really hated that sentence. “They usually feel lucky to have The Boy Who Lived, rather than me.” He sighed and watched Rose she sat down to solve this one, too, after picking up the one she dropped and placing it on the side.

*

Harry returned home feeling tired, but overall happy. He always liked the weekends he spent at Hermoine and Ron’s place, and when the rain stopped, he even went outside to the yard to practice flying. Rose already had her own (small and very limited) broomstick, and Harry rode on his own Lightyear 3000, teaching her new tricks and helping her practice her control on the broom. It was fun, and towards evening Ron came home too and joined until it was too dark to be outside. Then they all spent a little bit longer inside the house; but eventually it was time for Rose to start her night routine, and Harry left. He loved staying there and visiting his two best friends, but he also loved the quietness of his own home. For now, he had his nice and cozy partially Muggle flat to relax at for the little time still remaining of his weekend.

He was surprised when he went to open the door to see a rather grumpy looking owl sitting on his post box. As he drew closer, it looked ready to peck him, but instead, it sent its leg forward, offering the letter that was attached to it. Harry stared at it for a moment, and only remembered he should probably take it when the unfamiliar owl hooted at him.

“Thanks,” Harry muttered as he untied the letter. Didn’t owl post follow wherever a wizard was? It seemed as though this poor animal had been sitting here for a while. “Wanna come in for a snack before heading out to wherever you came from?” The owl hooted at him angrily again and then took off while Harry was still looking for his keys. He paused and stared after it for a short moment before he shrugged and searched for his key again.

He found it and unlocked his apartment, entering and placing his keys on the shelf by the door. He was about to place the letter there, too, but his curiosity got the better of him as soon as he noticed the writing on it. No name, just his address, in a somewhat familiar writing.

Was this?...

He tried to keep his excitement at bay as he opened it.

_ Dear DeadlyFlighty, _

__

_ I already judge you, whether it was your friends who chose this username for you or not. Says a bit about who your friends are. Which already says a lot about who you are, as the famous saying goes. But I shall give you the benefit of the doubt. For now. Especially since my username does not show my brightest moment either, I daresay. _

_ You claim that this is your first time trying this service. Why did you sign up, then? Why an anonymous service when there are options where you can see who you’re talking with? What are your expectations? _

_ You already know from my application form that I indeed love Quidditch, and I will add as a reply to your question that I used to play, although I don’t, anymore. I played Seeker for my team. I am not a fan of any team, but I do prefer to watch games with the Ballycastle Bats. They are underrated, but O’Healy is one of the best Seekers to ever live and play. _

_ I can’t help but wonder why a Wizard would choose to live in a Muggle neighborhood? Personally, I live in a fully Wizarding town, not too far from you. Not inside London, though. I will keep the exact location to myself, for now. I own a (decently successful, I have to say) bar in London, so I do find myself in the city quite a lot. I like London, though I do find it to be too loud. Too artificial. Do you really like living in such a place? _

__

_ Sincerely, _

_ SinCharming 25 _

__

_ P.S. _

_ I too am embarrassed about my username. Although as it suggests, I created it a while ago. I suppose 25 year-old-me wasn’t very sophisticated. _

__

Harry finished reading the letter, surprised that he’d gotten a response at all. He wasn’t sure what to think about it, other than that; SinCharming 25 didn’t sound like the most friendly person; but maybe he was just a hurting person. He had replied to Harry, after all, and even shared some information about himself. He sounded smart, at least, even if the feeling he was stuck-up intensified for Harry.

Harry walked towards his study, emotionally readying himself to write his response.

__

__


	4. Draco's POV

Draco Floo’d back to his apartment in dire need of a shower. He hated himself for doing this, and yet, somehow found himself in the same situation at least once a week. He walked directly towards the shower, looking at himself in the mirror before taking off his clothes for the second time that night. His hair was messy, and he knew he should shampoo it today. He always did after spending any amount of time in a stranger’s bed. He needed to get under the warm water and get rid of the self-pitying thoughts that filled his mind. He took off his shirt, and then his trousers and underwear and threw them on the floor, kicking them to the far side of the bathroom. He felt filthy, still messy with the stranger’s (what was his name even? Elliot? Emmet? Maybe…) sweat, and all kinds of bodily fluids. He felt even filthier when thinking about the way he was treated after everything was said and done.

_ Well, that was nice. Your place is connected to the Floo? Oh, great then. See you, uh… oh, Draco? As in Draco Malfoy? Isn’t your dad in jail for being a Death Eater? Oh, bloody hell… yeah, guess I won’t be seeing more of you… good night… _

Frowning and feeling mad both at that Elliot or whatever, and at himself, he got under the stream of warm water and started scrubbing that filth off. He really should stop letting this type of thing get to him. He was his father’s son, and there was nothing he could do about it. Most of the Wizarding world were assholes who’d judge him for being born to his parents, for being raised the way he was, for what he did in the name of protecting his family. They would never try to get to know  _ him _ , who he became once he realized he could be more than what his father told him to be. No newspaper was there to tell the story of Draco Malfoy who risked his own life to save Potter’s neck. Who didn’t spare his own parents when put on the stand at his father’s trial, effectively sending him to Azkaban. Who didn’t shy away at his own trial, and accepted the sentence he was given and executed his year of community service without complaining.

It was not interesting for the media when painted in the tamed colours of reality. No, for the newspapers he exposed his father’s crimes and was a part of them himself. Some papers decided that he got a deal for turning his father in.

Every time it’d happened, he was sure he’d already gotten used to it; but every time he learned, again, that it still hurt.

He poured shampoo on his palm and scrubbed it into his hair. It made him feel a little bit more like a human being again. He rinsed, and then moved on to soap his body. What people didn’t see was how when You-Know-Who lost the war, Draco lost everything he had, too. He lost his father. In a way, he lost his mother. The shell of a woman she was for the first few years after the war was not even remotely similar to the strong woman Draco knew her as. It was almost a relief when her body gave in, and she died. Draco was sad, of course; but a part of him knew she was probably better off dead than being completely dependent and bedridden. 

Before the war, he’de had his life planned out: who he was going to marry, where he was going to live, what he was going to do. But part of his lenient sentence was that he was not allowed to have any kind of work that involved the Ministry of Magic, and his new status as a criminal, light as his own punishment was, cancelled any plans of his prospective marriage.

It also freed him: allowed him to acknowledge his sexuality, to pave his own way, but it was not easy.

Especially when he encountered assholes like that Elliot, or Emmet, or whatever.

He rinsed his body, letting the warm water wash off all the dirt before he left the shower. He still felt empty, still felt used, still felt mad; but at least he was clean. Worthy of his own bed, even if he had a feeling he wouldn’t be leaving it for a long while. He made his way towards his bed, wrapped in his bathrobe, and sat on his mattress. He reached over to his nightstand to get his face moisturizer but in the dark he missed, and hit something else instead. A piece of parchment. He was confused for a short moment, unable to recall what would be so important that he’d keep it there; but then he remembered that letter from the matchmaking service which he’d read over a week ago and had left there, untouched, since then. He picked it up, and looked at it, forcing his eyes to read it in the darkness.

It was probably just the events of the night, but the thought that maybe, just  _ maybe _ , this guy would be different, first getting to know him through his writing and with no judgement, crossed Draco’s mind. Still not feeling all too tired, he decided to take the risk. He brought a clean roll of parchment and a feather quill, and started writing.

*

The next letter arrived at Draco’s small apartment sometime while Draco was out at work. A rather crabby owl waited for him at his window, but it flew away after making its delivery and after Draco gave it a treat. It was almost 1 am, but Draco wasn’t too tired. Sundays were always slow, what with Monday being a workday and most people preferring to stay at home and go to bed early. The closer the week got to its end, the crowd in the bar grew, getting to its peak on Friday night. Saturday was relatively good, too, but Draco noticed the difference every week.

Feeling like sleep was too far from him today, once again, after staying in bed almost until he was late for opening the bar, he grabbed the letter and a pack of Pumpkin Pasties from the kitchen, and sat to read it on his sofa while having his night snack.

__

_ Dear SinCharming25, _

__

_ A Seeker! What a coincidence. I played Seeker for my team, too, in school. I loved it, but it is a bit of a lonely role in a team-type game, don’t you think? Speaking of lonely, you seem quite judgemental of my friends! Let me tell you, they are amazing people. Maybe they are not the best when it comes to picking names, but they were the first friends I ever made, and they stuck with me through thick and thin, would risk their lives for me, and I would risk my life for them. That’s the kind of friendship we share. They are amazing people and I know anyone who meets them will love them. _

_ Even if they do dumb things, at times… but don’t we all? _

_ They are also responsible for me signing up for this service. Well, one of them. She suggested it to me. As for why… Well, I am sure this is no news to you, as you use this service as well, but the world out there is very hard to navigate! You never know what you’re going to find… And at 28, I figured that maybe trying to get to know someone without the added pressure of face-to-face meeting might work. It might not. I don’t know. But so far I find interacting with you rather interesting, even if it is just my second letter. I think there is value in getting to know the soul of the person first. Don’t you think? _

_ Why did  _ you _ sign up? And why did you stay for so long (I assume 3 years based on your latest letter) if it didn’t work out for you yet? Why didn’t it work out so far? – Please don’t feel obligated to tell me! I am just curious, but I am not going to judge you. I am here to try to date without any prejudice. _

_ You also asked me about living in a Muggle neighborhood. I will reveal then that I grew up in a Muggle environment and it is not as bad as some might think. Muggles have made some incredible inventions in their magic-less lives. If you are not familiar, maybe I could show you, one day… _

_ But I’m jumping ahead of myself. _

_ The point is that I do not mind the Muggle environment, and as I mentioned before, I made sure to live nearby Wizarding places as well. Basically, I enjoy the best of both worlds! And I love it. How does it feel like living outside of the city? I know with Floo and Apparition it’s not such a big issue, but I love seeing people around me, living their lives… You prefer the quietness, then? _

_ But then you mentioned you owned a bar! What an interesting occupation for someone who loves quiet places. Or I got the whole thing wrong. Probably I did, I don’t know you at all, after all… I am now curious to know which bar it is, and if I might know it, but I will respect your privacy for now and won’t ask. _

_ Oh… I just realized that if I don’t stop now, I will have to use a second roll of parchment, which means I probably wrote a little bit too much, so I will stop here. Don’t want to bore you to death already! _

_ I will be looking forward to your next letter, if you choose to write one. I hope you do. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ DeadlyFlighty _

__

Draco finished reading the letter and was feeling tired, although a little bit better than he’d felt before. At least this DeadlyFlighty guy was aware that he wrote a little bit much – although a part of Draco, the part that still had  _ some _ hope, found it rather… cute. Maybe he assumed wrongly about him, and this really was his first try. He still sounded rather optimistic, naïve, even. Not a doubtful, sad, bitter miserable loser like Draco. But he didn’t sound like the total idiot Draco assumed him to be.

Maybe just a little bit of an idiot, but it might be the level Draco could handle.

The other part of him, that sad and bitter part, the part that still remembered very vividly all the rejections, that lost trust in other human beings at least once a week, wasn’t sure how he felt about receiving a response letter the same day Draco sent his; which was with over a week’s delay. Not because Draco was trying to play hard to get, but he got busy with his everyday life and he sort of forgot about it until Sunday’s boredom hit him and he found DeadlyFlighty’s letter and figured, why not respond to it. At the very least it would add some entertainment. But getting the response letter the same day Draco sent his was suspicious. Either the guy was desperate, which could only mean bad things (Was he extremely ugly? Incapable of human interaction? Extremely bad in bed?); or he was a useless loser who had no life.

Both options were not very appealing, but he didn’t sound all bad in his letter. Draco had to think about it. Figure out if the guy was worth the effort of replying to.


	5. Harry's POV

_ I wouldn’t call being a Seeker lonely. But it’s the most important role. Holds quite a bit of pressure. But I always did strive to succeed, to be recognized, so I loved playing that part. I had quite a few wins, and the feeling of knowing you got the winning points for your team is a great feeling. Almost enough to make up for the feeling of disappointing your team when other times you let the other team’s Seeker catch the Snitch. I loved the excitement of finding it, loved the race. Even when I played against Seekers who were better than me, there was always that adrenalin rush of trying to get it before the other player. It is also the only role in the game that allows for a single player role, without being dependent on the other players, except, maybe, the Beaters for keeping the Bludger away from you. _

Parts of SinCharming’s letter echoed in Harry’s head the following day at work. It, yet again, took about a week for a response to arrive, leaving Harry anxious that maybe his extra-long letter (but really, it was only one roll of parchment, so not all that bad, is what he kept telling himself) or the vague suggestion to show his match the Muggle inventions he was using (but he didn’t mean  _ in his house _ , he told himself, because he wasn’t creepy like that) was a bit too much. But in reality he was excited at the start of something new. Even though he didn’t know who was at the other side of the owl mail, it was another human being, probably just as lonely as Harry felt, who was looking to find love in this lonely world. Maybe he was just busy, Harry kept telling himself. He had no idea about running a business, but it must be difficult. This time the letter got to his place on the night between Sunday and Monday, with the delivery owl knocking on his window at 4am. He took it, and went right back to sleep, but he read it over his morning coffee.

It was only the second letter, but Harry already felt like he was getting to know the guy. Clearly he wasn’t a crowd type of person, and preferred his solitary; but then he also owned a bar. Maybe he wasn’t always present there and mostly took care of the administrative stuff. The way he wrote about his chosen town strengthened the feeling he liked his solitude.

_ Yes, I like my home to be a quiet place. I need to know I can have that when I want it, even though I can go to the city whenever I please. Who wants to wake up to honking cars, the Knight Bus running amok, or just silly teenagers making noise, thinking they are cool for drinking Butterbeer? _

Harry didn’t mind it. While he was a people’s person, and loved spending time with his friends, he, more than anyone probably, knew the importance of privacy and of having a quiet place to turn to when needed. After all, that was why he chose a Muggle house (with a few Wizarding modifications, of course). If this SinCharming guy wouldn’t want to go to large gatherings, or concerts, or crowded places, that wasn’t going to be a deal breaker for Harry. He wouldn’t have started interacting with him, if it was.

It was probably silly of him, and certainly too early, but Harry felt like they had a lot in common; more than the dry details on the application form suggested. 

_ Why did I sign up, you asked? I suppose pretty much the same reasons as you. How did you say? The world is hard to navigate? Well, from my experience, finding good people can be very difficult, and looks can be deceiving. Why do I stay signed up to this service even when clearly until now I’ve had no satisfactory outcome? That is… a brilliant question, actually. I’ve been thinking about quitting many times, but I was too lazy, probably. I suppose maybe a part of me still hopes it might work? I might be more of a pathetic optimist than I thought I was.  _

Harry was, too, a pathetic optimistic at times. He wouldn’t have listened to Hermione’s advice, otherwise.

He sighed, and returned to his work, trying to stay focussed. But it was very hard to stay concentrated on checking the very same device he’d checked already a week ago, and the week before that (a floor rug that did not require water and  _ Aqua Eructo _ ’d itself, including a secret spell for a floor soap, whenever you used it to wash the floor, and cleaned itself as well), but it was still using either too much water, or too much soap, or cleaned itself and stopped working until dry even though it was still not finished with the room. Today was not much different; the developers seemed to have fixed the soap issue, but there was still too much water, which resulted in the flooding of Harry’s office.

He sat down to write his report while his (regular) magical mops were mopping his floor, waiting with the drying spell for his shoes until all the water was gone.

_ Product: Wonder No-Work Mop (version IV) _

_ Serial Number: CS327368 _

_ Tester: Harry Potter _

_ Grade: To be improved _

_ Remarks: Some improvements since version III. Version IV no longer uses too much soap. Floor does not become a bubble party anymore, but still uses too much water and turns the floor into a pool. Required improvements in self-cleaning (at times stops and cleans itself. Impossible to restart if needed. Drying spells won’t work). Self-watering should be improved and controlled. _

_ Conclusion: Send back to development. Not interested in testing before water problems are fixed. _

Harry waved his wand, turning his note into a crane and sending it on its way. He looked down at the floor. It was still a bit wet, but was mostly gone. He sighed, pointing at his shoes and lazily said the incantation, waiting for his shoes and bottom of his trousers to dry up. He wished the first line of testers of this product (say, the developers) would have tested it before passing it on to him. This was already the fourth time this specific product had flooded his office, and it was getting on his nerves.

His thoughts wandered back to the letter he read this morning.

_ Did you just invite me to your home, DeadlyFlighty? I thought the whole idea of this specific service is that we get to know each other, first? Not that I am saying never, but really, after two letters… invite me to dinner first, at least! _

It wasn’t a no. Harry wondered if it meant that SinCharming was expecting him to ask him out, already. He didn’t know what the etiquette of this type of dating was. Was he supposed to ask him out, to request that they meet, so soon? It was true that it was Harry who brought it up first, but he didn’t mean,  _ now _ , now. He was probably tired when he wrote it, too. He signed up for this service because he wanted the other person to like him for _ him _ , first. It was obvious for him that the moment they will see each other, SinCharming would know who he is, and with it all the baggage that came along with being Harry Potter. On the other hand, SinCharming also mentioned that it was too early, and he still kept the name of his bar a secret, which suggested he didn’t want Harry to come over, yet.

Were they at the same brainwave, or...?

Maybe Harry should ask Hermione for advice. He also wasn’t so sure he liked the question that was there, almost hidden between other pieces of information, both given and requested, but it did not escape Harry’s notice.  _ Are you Muggleborn? _

The guy probably didn’t mean anything by it. Harry knew that it was a legitimate question in the Wizarding world, but a part of him didn’t forget his years at Hogwarts. He did not forget the Slytherins,  _ Malfoy _ , degrading Muggleborns, despite the fact that the most brilliant student in his year, by far, was a Muggleborn. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. But then…

He probably should have expected that, mentioning that he grew up in a Muggle-only environment; and it was probably one-hundred percent normal. He shouldn’t judge, yet… probably.

The rustling of paper wings penetrated Harry’s thoughts and made him look up at the paper crane that just flew into his office through the aperture in the door. It flew towards him and landed on his desk. Sighing, figuring it was a notification about another half-arsed product he would be forced to check, he unfolded it. He was surprised when a small box fell out of it, and carefully placed it on his desk in a way so that it would not fall over as he turned to read the letter.

_ Dear Mr. Potter, _

_ We are pleased to inform you that the product you tested, product QS23459, has been approved. As a token of our appreciation, please accept our product prototype. We at  _ MQQP  _ hope that you will have hours of fun using it months before it goes into mass production. _

_ Thank you for your time and comments, _

_ Lennie Parry, _

_ Mass Quality Quidditch Products Ltd _

__

Harry blinked. The name felt familiar to him, but it might be just because Quidditch was in the name. Not surprising, almost all the Quidditch supply products landed on his work desk. Curious, he picked up the little box, and opened it. Inside rested a small, golden Snitch.


	6. Draco's POV

Christmas was never an especially jolly time for Draco. Holiday meals at the Malfoy Manor were a tradition, and Draco could remember his three year old self being forced into festive holiday robes, much to the pleasure of his father’s Death Eater friends (although of course, back then, he didn’t know what it meant). The Manor was always tastefully decorated, done by the House-elves and orchestrated by his mother. He was never allowed to touch a single ornament on the Christmas tree, let alone make any suggestions. They would have the formally-feeling meal, a gift-opening ceremony, in which Draco always got what he asked for; but the gift cards were always minimal and emotionless. He was expected to show his polite gratitude and then he was mostly just left to his own devices while his parents talked about stuff they did not let him join in.

When he grew up, he was invited to the meetings. He felt proud when his father allowed him to take part for the first time when he was thirteen years old, pretending to pay attention to every single thing that was being said, although it bored him to death and they never asked for his opinion, anyway.

He heard the stories about Christmas being a happy family time in school, but he never quite got it. He didn’t think of himself as miserable, or sad; and he did always look forward to the holidays when at school. He didn’t know how else the holidays could look like, and always thought he was so much luckier than the pathetic kids who had to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas break. Always thought himself superior for the amount of Galleons his parents were spending on his gifts. How his father made sure he got everything he wanted.

It was only years later, when his father sold him to the Dark Lord, when he realized that even though he had everything he asked for, he never got what he needed.

He still missed it when it was all gone, but he found his own way to make up for it in his adult life. It started out as a way to make his mother get out of the depression that had hit her, at least an attempt to get her out of bed. It was just the two of them and Draco’s only friend, Pansy, at first. None of their former acquaintances would come. Either they were in Azkaban, together with Lucius, or they managed to escape justice and cut all ties with them. He didn’t mind it all that much, and it seemed that it helped Narcissa somewhat, and so, he repeated that the next year, and the year after.

After his mother passed away Draco stopped celebrating Christmas altogether; but he restarted the tradition when he opened his bar. Figuring no one should be left feeling lonely over the holidays, he, with the very helpful advice of Pansy, started hosting Christmas dinners for whoever wanted to out of his employees. She’d said that it was great that he was helping them with a job when no one else would accept them, but he could use the cooking skills he’d gained when cooking for his mother to give them a little bit more than a paycheck.

At first, only one of the teenagers he employed came to the dinner. But the next year it was two of them, and this year six out of eight showed up. It was a relatively large crowd for Draco, as including himself and Pansy, and her boyfriend, Aryan Hunt, it was a party of nine. His apartment, meant to house him and his liquor cabinet, could not hold so many people, and Pansy was kind enough to offer the house she shared with Aryan for the feast. Draco spent the better part of the day there, cooking and decorating. He even made it through dinner without feeling too exhausted. He even stayed a bit after everyone left, talking with Pansy over a glass of Firewhiskey. She told him about her work and the bonus she was expecting; told him about the trip she and Aryan were planning for spring.

It was a bit after midnight when Draco got up from his friend’s sofa. He was exhausted, having cooked all day and been social. The bar would be closed tomorrow, too; but that did not mean Draco could afford to laze about for the whole day (no matter how much he wanted to). The end of the year was the time when he was the busiest, calculating his profits and expenses from the whole year (because Merlin knew he could not afford an accountant), which were due to the Ministry on the 1st of January and no later. 

“Have a good night, Draco,” said Pansy as they both stood up. She was smiling at him, and Draco couldn’t decide whether it was a pitying smile, or just a tired one. Being a host was not easy, as he knew all too well. 

“You too, Pans. I -  _ oh _ ?” As he straightened up, something fell and hit the floor with a soft  _ thump _ . It seemed to have fallen from his pocket, so instead of making his way towards the fireplace as he intended to do, he stood in his place and looked around him until he located the item that seemed out of place. A small wooden box, about the size of his palm, dark and hard to notice against Pansy’s black carpet. He bent over to pick it up, taking a few seconds before recognising it. He placed it back in his pocket before turning to Pansy, who, he couldn’t fail to notice, was looking at him curiously. “Sorry. I’ll be going now. Good night.”

He managed to take only one step before Pansy talked again. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, the familiar, old Slytherin tone clear in her voice. 

“Home.”

“You’re not going to tell me what’s in that box?”

Of course Draco knew she meant that. It wasn’t typical of him to be walking around with a box in his pocket, and it was very typical of Pansy to be nosy. He thought for a moment. Giving in and telling her about where he got the box from would require telling her about DeadlyFlightly, which he didn’t yet want to do, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to, even though they had been interacting for about three months by now. Even though they’d exchanged letters almost on a daily basis and discussed deeper topics than favourite Quidditch teams and what they did for a living. Even though Draco did not have any of his nighttime endeavours with strangers since November. Even though his enthusiasm and rapid replies, which were always kind-sounding, interesting and caring, little by little made Draco look forward to the next letter, and reply a bit faster than once a week.

“Just a Christmas present,” he replied. There was only a very, very slim chance – but he still had some hope she’d drop the subject and let him go home.

That shred of hope disappeared when she rolled her eyes at him. “Who sent it to you and why do you carry it around with you, Draco Malfoy?”

_ Well, _ Draco thought to himself.  _ Being secretive is probably going to end now. _

He resigned to the fact that he now had to share everything about his latest match by Cupid Owl. So he told her everything. At least, everything except the more personal details. He felt oddly exposed after this; but also much lighter.

That didn’t change the fact that when he was done and Pansy was looking at him with big, excited eyes he didn’t also feel very,  _ very _ stupid. “I can’t believe my stone-hearted friend has fallen in love.”

“No I have not,” he snapped at her. Perhaps just a little bit too quickly. But really! Fallen in love? Impossible. “Yes, I like mailing him, but I have no feelings towards this – stranger.”

Pansy did not look impressed. “Didn’t you sign up for this service  _ because _ you wanted the whole thing to be anonymous until both of you actually have feelings? Well, if he’d sent you a Christmas present then I am sure he has feelings for you too. Also from what you’ve said he’s been mailing back very quickly, no? Clearly he cares! Did you open up that box? What did he get you? Did you also get a note?”

Draco was really too tired to handle this. “Yes, but I didn’t have time to open or read any of it. I was rushing here.”

“Oh, you and your excuses. Hand it over!”

“But it is my – “

“Now, Draco Malfoy. Do you also have the note here?”

He considered lying to her. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to share this with her - or with anyone, for that matter - yet. But he also knew that if he tried lying, Pansy, the very well-trained Slytherin who had spent most of her life with him, studying him, would know immediately. “Yes.”

Pansy stared at him with her hand still stretched out from her request to see the box, and now she made a beckoning motion with her fingers. Draco thought about his options. He could pretend he’d lost the message after all; but his pride wouldn’t let him act so stupidly. He had missed his chance to just walk into the fireplace and disappear. Any attempt to escape this fate now would be a crude display of cowardness. Straight-out refusing her could have devastating consequences. He handed the box over to her before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the note as well and handing that over, too. Draco watched her examining the box and opening it, revealing a regular looking Golden Snitch, its little wings folded around its rounded shape.

“You got a Snitch? Are you playing Quidditch again?”

“No. Do you really think I have people to play with?”

She looked at him for a moment, but Draco couldn’t figure out whether it was pity in her eyes or whether she was just wondering if he was, in fact, an idiot. “Guess I’ll just have to read the note then.”

Before Draco could refuse, she handed him the Golden Snitch and the little box it came in before she unrolled the note and started reading out loud.

_ “Dear SinCharming,” _

She paused and glared at him. “Didn’t change that silly username yet, have you?” 

Draco shrugged in response. As if he cared.

_ “Merry Christmas! I am at my friends’ place. I always enjoy being here, but woah, is it loud here! My friend had her second child so now there’s also a screaming baby in the background, in addition to the toddler, and tomorrow (or today? I am not sure when you will get this!) everyone else is going to join. I love their family, but there are so many of them. It’s always getting so busy here during the holidays, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world. My holidays with them have been the best I’ve ever had, ever since the first time I was invited, even though staying here for longer than three days in a row usually makes me feel like I am going crazy. _

_ I hope that you are spending it with friends, too, and not home alone. No one should be alone on Christmas, don’t you think? A part of me hopes I could be there to ease the lonely feeling. Maybe one day I will be able to. Maybe one day you can join me and my friends, or I will join you and yours. When I imagine it, it feels so nice. Hey, who knows? Perhaps our two groups of friends will come together some day. But that might be a little far-fetched, now, considering we haven’t really seen each other. But I don’t know. I feel that over the past three months we kind of got to know each other, no? _

_ Oh, Merlin. I just realized how this sounds. I considered scraping this version and starting a new one, but I think that instead I will just add that there’s no pressure, okay? I do hope to meet you, one day. But I think that taking our time with this can be really good. I have dated before. You know I almost got married… but even with my fiancée, I don’t think I ever felt this comfortable sharing my thoughts with someone else. I think we have a really good connection. We really do have a lot in common, and I feel… _

_ I feel you really  _ get _ me, if that makes any sense? _

_ Do you have any plans for the New Year? Though I bet your bar is insanely busy on New Year’s Eve! It must be one of the busiest times of the year. But I mean… I mean like next year. Any interesting New Year resolutions? Plans? I always use this time to think about what happened the previous year, always try to see how I can get better… Not that I think you should get better at anything. I mean, everyone always  _ can _ get better at things. There’s no perfect but… _

_ Maybe I really should scrap this letter and start again… But I am already being called downstairs, and I don’t think I will have time at all to finish writing after dinner, and I do want you to get this at least before Christmas Eve, so it will just have to do as is. _

_ I hope you don’t mind… I think I’ve written dumber things to you in the past. _

_ Anyway, I really just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas… _

_ Oh, and… I am sure you noticed the small gift I attached… Please don’t feel like you have to get me something, too! I just had it, and I found it when I was cleaning up my office before the New Year’s vacation, and it immediately made me think of you. So I wanted you to have it… now, before anyone else. It’s a prototype of a new Snitch that I recently was notified had been approved after I reviewed it. I think it is really cool! And might help you start playing again, if you ever feel like it. It works basically the same as the typical Snitch but it has a few more features. It is great for practicing because you have a setting where once you catch it, it becomes invisible for 60 seconds, during which it disappears so you can play again. All you have to do is say “ _ Praxi _ ” at it and it will activate the mode. No need for a wand, so it makes it very easy! Also, when you hold it you’ll probably notice – it’s much easier to grab, and it is also more aerodynamic. Also in case you use it during an actual match, once caught by one team’s Seeker, it will turn into the colours of the team which caught it. To avoid any mishaps during a game, you know… It has a few more cool features, but I think those are still being worked on. The first version should be out in the market in about six months, but I think this prototype is good enough! _

_ Anyway, I hope you like it. I really do. _

_ Merry Christmas and Happy New Year if we don’t owl before. _

_ DeadlyFlighty” _

__

Draco felt Pansy’s eyes on him right when she was reading his letter. It was really unnerving and uncomfortable, but he could hardly stop her after the first few lines and say he’d rather read it alone, first. She wouldn’t have let him anyway.

They shared a moment of awkward silence.

“He’s quite the talker, isn’t he? That was one long letter.”

Draco glared at her. “Nobody asked you to read it out loud, you volunteered yourself.”

“Oh, as if you would’ve just told me what it says. Look how long it took you to tell me this person even exists! He sounds adorable, even if it seems he’s a bit more into crowds than you are. Do you think you could handle that?”

“What? An extroverted person? I’m not a baby, Pans. Sure I can. Not that I said I wanted to, or anything.”

Pansy’s lips stretched in a smirk. “Of course you can. For your  _ boyfriend _ .”

“He is  _ not _ my boyfriend. I haven’t even met him yet.”

“Of course, love. But hey, you can change that easily! Look, it says so right here.” She scanned the letter with her eyes. “ _ I do hope to meet you one  _ day, he wrote.” 

Draco felt the atmosphere change when the smile left her face. Instead, she was looking at him with a caring look. “All jokes aside, I think you should meet him sometime soon. He seems to like you. And from this letter and what you’ve told me, I reckon you like him too. Think about it, won’t you, Draco? He’s suffered you so far. Maybe it’s worth the try.”

Draco played with the little Snitch in his hand, turning it around and examining it. “I’ll think about it,” he said eventually, then put the Snitch back in its box and back in his pocket. He beckoned his hand, waiting for Pansy to give him his letter back. “Can I go home now? It’s really late.”

“I do think that even though he’s a little bit on the silly side, he might be nice,” Pansy said, but placed the letter in Draco’s hand without protest. “You did keep that subscription for a reason, and have been communicating with him for a reason. You’ve never mailed anyone for this long. I think…” Draco felt her eyes follow him as he placed the letter back in his pocket and pushed himself off the sofa. “I think that maybe this time, he won’t judge you.”

“Well, he still doesn’t know who I am. I said I’d think about it, okay? Good night, Pansy.”

“Good night, Draco.”


	7. Harry's POV

Christmas and New Year’s Eve have passed, and with them, the new year started without any special events. Except, of course, from Hermione giving birth to Hugo, Ron and her second child, which of course meant they were both much busier now and Harry felt like it was a bit too much if he visited too often. Not that he did not visit; he certainly did, and made sure to bring food with him when he did.

He didn’t mind it all that much. He understood them, as that it was harder with a newborn; it had been exactly the same when Rose had been born. And this time Harry had his own things to do, better than being busy figuring out his dying relationship with Ginny. He had his job now, which spiked in business about a week after the beginning of the new year. What with everyone clearing their desks of requests, most of which ended up piling on Harry’s desk, and created a delay in Harry’s work well into the end of January.

And, of course, he had his correspondence with SinCharming, which had taken a very positive turn since a bit before Christmas. He seemed to have opened up. He was responding almost daily now, and their letters were becoming longer. It also made Harry’s heart skip a beat when, after he sent him the prototype Snitch for Christmas, he received a gift back. It was a jar of (seemingly) home-baked cookies. At least, it said so in the attached letter. SinCharming also said how much he appreciated the gift Harry sent over, and confessed that the cookies were, in fact, an extra batch he made for Christmas. He apologized, saying that he did not know they were sending each other gifts and didn’t want to put any pressure on Harry, but when he got the Snitch he couldn’t just leave it be. Even though Harry wrote that he wasn’t expecting a gift back.

The cookies, however, were  _ delicious _ . Even Ron and Hermione thought so (“if he bakes like  _ that _ , Harry, he must be a keeper!” Ron said after the first bite), and Harry sent him an owl back, complimenting and thanking him. He also responded to his comment about a possible meeting. He didn’t exactly schedule anything, but he also didn’t completely ignore it, or outright say no to it.

No, that part of their correspondence - the concrete plans rather than general promises – arrived several weeks later, just after February had started.

_ Do you still want to meet me? _

The single question stood out to Harry when he’d read that letter. A part of him wasn’t even sure that it was real. The thought, since that very first letter, had nagged at the back of his mind, faint but still _there. Maybe it’s a scam? What will happen when he realizes who he’d been owling with?_   
The danger that this person, whoever he was, would turn to the papers in hopes of what little publicity, being attached to Harry’s name, could bring him. Not that he sounded like that type of person. No, from the letters, the image that was portrayed was that of a hurting man. One who’s been through a lot, lost and orphaned like Harry, trying to escape being judged before anyone got to know them. He was a soft, caring person, who baked in his free time for his friends and unfortunate employees.

He wasn’t the kind of person who’d sell Harry’s privacy for a moment of glory or for a bag of Galleons for giving the scoop that Harry was, in fact, gay. Not that Harry cared much what the world thought about him, but he did like to keep his private life, well,  _ private. _

Harry still found himself going to Hermione when that letter came, asking for her advice while helping her take care of the children. But Hermione dismissed his concerns.    
_ They check that there’s a genuinely nice guy behind the username, Harry. You know that better than I do. Besides, you’ve been mailing with this guy for ages! And he really does sound like a sweet guy. I think you should meet him. Maybe… maybe somewhere where there are other people, at first, but I think it’s worth a try. _

And that’s how Harry found himself at the entrance to one of London’s lesser known establishments, staring at the door but still not daring to enter. SinCharming suggested this location, saying it had good food, a good atmosphere, and good people who kept to themselves, and Harry had agreed, trusting the opinion of a professional bar owner.

At least, that’s what he’d told himself when he replied to the letter, agreeing to the time and place as suggested by SinCharming. He failed to notice what date  _ exactly _ it was, a fact for which, now as he was standing in front of a giant heart-shaped door, he regretted deeply. Out of all the days of the year, SinCharming chose Valentine’s Day. Either he was even more cliché than he seemed on his profile (although that only rarely came up in his letters), or Hermione was wrong, and he was pulling a trick on him.

Harry leaned towards that second option when a couple opened the door and exited the place, hugging and very much into the Valentine’s spirit. The brief time the door was opened allowed Harry to glance inside: the place was decorated in red and pink bubble hearts lights floating around the room, giving it a feeling that, to Harry, resembled a brothel more than anything else. A whiff of some kind of flowery-vanilla scent hit him, as well as the sound of a sweet love song from the current singer-witch Ninon LaFromboise, whom Harry only knew because ever since this song came out Hermione had been  _ obsessed  _ with it.

Harry kept standing at the entrance. A part of him refused to believe that he was finally able to meet the mysterious person he had been owling with. That there truly was a real person there: flesh and bones and blond hair.   
In Harry’s imagination, he had a soft face to accompany the light-blue eyes, he was tall and well-built. Though body shape wasn’t all that important to Harry. SinCharming could be chubby and short, and that would still be okay.

But what if there was no one waiting for him on the other side of that door?

The heart door moved again, and again Harry caught a whiff of the somewhat intoxicating smell and the terrible music, as another couple left the place, hand in hand and whispering to each other which made them both giggle.

Well, if he didn’t try, he wouldn’t know, would he?

Gathering as much as he could from what was left from his renowned Gryffindor courage, Harry pushed the door open, inhaled the overly sweet vanilla-flower-something scent and doing his best to pretend he wasn’t bothered by the overly kitschy décor of the room. He stood at the entrance for a moment, taking a look around.

The place was  _ packed _ . Apart from the floating, little, heart-shaped lights, the place was packed with tall tables, each of them only for two, each decorated with a candle that was glowing through the semi-translucent veil that surrounded each of them, to allow  _ some _ privacy. According to the lack of conversation noise, Harry assumed they were also charmed to be sound-silencing as well. He tried to remember where exactly SinCharming told him he’d wait for him. He hadn’t payed too much attention to this detail, assuming that it would be easy enough to spot a blond guy looking like he was looking for someone. As it was, Harry figured that with this strategy, his chances were close to non-existent.

He was sure though that the bar had been mentioned in SinCharming;s last letter. So Harry made his way towards the bar. Maybe… at the far corner? Certainly a corner had been mentioned. Harry glanced around, trying to ignore the hazy feeling the aroma and atmosphere were giving him. His eyes passed over the many, many tables, and the bar, and then –

His eyes landed on a large, red-and-pink decorated board floating in the corner, with large, glowing letters.

_ Roses are red _

_ Violets are blue _

_ There’d be some magic in the air _

_ If you just let love come through _

__

As horrible as this poem was, it reminded Harry of one specific line from the letter _. I’ll get us a table, but to make things easier, let's meet at the bar, by the giant glowing board._   
Well, that didn’t leave much room for mistakes. Determined, and pretending to have more courage than he felt he had, Harry walked towards the sign, too busy calming down his beating heart and frenzy thoughts about the search for his date. All he managed to think about was – getting to that board, sitting down, calming down.

“ _ Potter _ ? What are you doing here?”

Even the surprise which was clearly laced in that familiar voice wasn’t enough to cover the equally familiar disgust. Was it Harry projecting, or did he also hear a hint of embarrassment in that voice, as well?

Harry lifted his face to look at Draco Malfoy, who was sitting at the bar, dressed in a fitted dark purple button-down shirt, a meter away from Harry, and staring at him with a look that told Harry one thing, and one thing only.  _ Fuck off. _ Harry could’ve told him that the feeling was mutual.

“What are  _ you _ doing here, Malfoy? This place doesn’t seem to be like your standard location.”   
Harry was nervous. Malfoy was here, in what his date was supposed to be seated. What if SinCharming walked in and saw him talking to him, and thought they were – Harry had to hold back the disgust – flirting? What if he turned around and left?

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him, and somehow, still managed to look elegant. Harry wanted to punch his face. “I happen to have a date, Potter. In case you failed to notice despite all the decorations, it is Valentine’s today, and  _ some _ people aren’t as unattractive as you and are actually capable of getting dates.”

Harry frowned at him. As much as he tried to switch the hatred he felt for that man with pity, it was very hard when he was speaking to him like that. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I, too, happen to have a date today. And you’re sitting in their seat, so please, bugger off.”

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”

“No, it’s  _ you _ who – wait, hold on.” Harry paused. He felt like someone had punched  _ him _ in the face. His brain was swirling, unable to hold onto a single, tangible thought. He felt his heart beating hard in his chest as things started to fit together. Small details: abusive parents, being a Seeker, being as good as an orphan.    
“You’re really sitting here, waiting for your date?”

Malfoy arched an eyebrow, looking, by now, as if he was ready to send Harry straight back to first grade to learn simple conclusion drawing. “That’s exactly what I said, Potter, so now, if you don’t mind – “

Harry felt his face starting to heat up. This could not be happening to him.   
“Is it, by any chance, sort of a… blind date, perhaps?” He moved his fingers through his hair, a gesture he found himself doing every time he felt nervous.   
“From a… sort of… matchmaking service?”

Now it was Malfoy’s turn to frown. He looked mad, and even in the dark lighting of the room Harry was sure he noticed a rosy hue rising in his cheeks. “I – are you  _ spying _ on me? How did you know that?  _ Why _ do you know that?”

Harry swallowed. “Are you – by any chance –  _ SinCharming25 _ ?”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them as the realization dawned on them. Except, of course, for the horrible music and the constant noise of the kitchen, and the conversation a wizard and witch who were sitting a few seats away, and did not have their own secluded table.

“You – DeadlyFlighty?”

Harry felt his world collapsing on him. Months of interaction. Revealing his deepest thoughts and feelings, hanging his hopes that maybe, just  _ maybe _ , he found someone he could trust. He had actually felt that he was falling for this person.

Only to find out that out of all the people in the world, it was  _ Malfoy _ behind all those caring words.

Harry felt that the ground was dropping from under his feet. This… this could not be happening…

“I cannot believe this.” Harry heard the sneer in Malfoy’s words. Could hear the same disappointment he was feeling, the same hurt. He could see out of the corner of his eye Malfoy sliding off the bar seat, could feel their shoulders brushing as he walked past him on his way to the exit.

He should let him go. Harry knew it. There was not –  _ could not be _ – any other option. They were rivals. More than that; they had history neither of them could ignore. Harry had helped to put Malfoy’s father in jail. Malfoy was responsible for the death of so many of the people Harry cared for. They hated each other, ever since they were eleven years old.

But…

He felt the abrupt halt when he reached over and grabbed Malfoy’s arm. Gently, but firmly. He felt Malfoy almost flinching at his touch, however, surprisingly enough, he did not try to pull his arm back, didn’t try to move away.

Harry looked up at Malfoy, who was looking back at him, a questioning expression on his face.

All their rivalry, all the hatred, that was in the past. What did eleven year old boys know about anything? Harry already knew that Malfoy hadn’t done what he did because he was evil. He had already learned, years ago, that he was acting out of a feeling of no choice, out of self-defense. He even testified in his favor at his trial. The memory of Malfoy lying, risking his own life, his mother’s life, in order to save Harry, flooded back into his mind. All the feelings that accumulated inside him during those months of owling back and forth.

Hadn’t that been exactly the point of Cupid Owl service? To first get to  _ know _ the person? Without judgment, without prejudice?

“Hold on, Malfoy,” he said. Which felt a little bit dumb, considering that all this while, Malfoy had not moved, “I know… it’s you and I. And I know we have our history. But I meant what I wrote to you on Christmas.”   
He suddenly realized that he was still holding onto Malfoy’s arm.He let go of it, allowing the arm to fall to the side of its respective body instead.   
“I really felt that we had some sort of connection. And since… since you decided to meet me, I will have to assume that, uh, that you felt the same. To an extent, anyway. And…,” he paused. Harry couldn’t believe what he was going to say. “And I think that maybe we could try to put the past behind us, and give this… whatever this is, a chance. If you want,” he added, hesitantly. His heart was still beating so hard it felt like it wanted to escape his chest.

Would he be able to handle a rejection from Malfoy, now, after he had allowed himself to be so vulnerable?   
_ A bit too late to think about it now _ , an annoying voice, at the back of his head, pointed out. He had never been the type to plan out his course of action. That was more of Hermione’s realm. Harry… trusted his instincts.

This made him such a good Seeker.

Malfoy kept staring at him. Harry couldn’t figure out what was going on inside his head, his face being constantly somewhere between absolute horror, being a second away from bursting out in laughter, and… hesitation.

“Of course, I understand if you wouldn’t want to. I can barely believe that I suggested it, but I mean… I’ve been looking for someone I can have that sort of connection with for a very long time. And… we’re not stupid kids anymore, and – “

“Shut up, Potter.”

Harry stopped talking, and swallowed nervously instead.

“I won’t deny that I enjoyed our interactions,” Malfoy started, and Harry could tell, despite how well Malfoy tried to hide it, that he, too, was nervous. “I did not imagine in my wildest dreams that out of all the people in the world, the idiot that I’ve been corresponding with, turned out to be none other than  _ Harry Potter _ . And I do have to say, I am quite disappointed.”

“That makes two of us.”

“However,” Malfoy cut into Harry’s words, giving him a scorching glare. “If you want to try so badly, then I suppose I could suffer through one evening in your company.”

Harry wanted to turn away and say:  _ no thanks _ . This was not – some kind of a  _ favour _ Malfoy was doing for him. It was  _ Harry _ who took the big step and suggested that they try to look past their byegone rivalry. He was ready to say all that, but then realized what the look on Malfoy’s face meant. It wasn’t hatred; it was fear. It was the look of someone who had hoped for something  _ good _ , for once, and was faced with yet another failure. But there was still some  _ hope _ that it would turn up to be, at least, not as bad as he imagined. It was a look Harry was very familiar with.

Was that Malfoy’s way to say that he, too, wanted to try?

“Should we… uh… sit, then?” Harry suggested. He still could not believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth, but he also could not ignore the connection he’d had with his penpal. It was still very strange to think about this person, with all his depth and care and relatability, was no other than Draco Malfoy. But stranger things had happened before, and Harry accepted them with more ease. It had taken only an hour to convince him that a convicted, escaped murderer was someone worth forgiving, and more so, for Harry to fantasize, even if for a little bit, about moving in with him. It didn’t take much for Harry to believe in magic, and that he’s a wizard, and to accept an invitation from a stranger to go to an all-wizarding school. 

Next to that, agreeing to one date with Draco Malfoy didn’t seem all too bad.

Malfoy shrugged and reclaimed his seat at the bar, looking like he was going through pretty much the same emotional turmoil that Harry’d found himself battling ever since he realized that SinCharming25, the man he felt he could fall for, was Draco Malfoy.

As Harry was still standing, still busy trying to digest the whole situation, Malfoy looked up at him. “Are you going to sit down, or just keep standing there like some lost gnome?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said, but took the seat next to Malfoy, anyway. As he sat down, he felt his knee brushing against Malfoy’s; which made them both flinch and turn their bodies towards the bar, where such horrible things could not happen. In his hurry to cut the physical contact, Harry’s hand landed on the bar, straight on something soft and silky. Surprised, Harry looked down, to find that the counter was dotted with rose petals that were spread all over it.   
_ Great _ , he thought.

They sat next to each other in silence, only disturbed by the music (which remained to be the same, sticky sweet tunes it had been when Harry first walked in). When the bartender placed a menu in front of them it was almost a relief. Now Harry had something to focus on that was not the awkward feeling, sitting so close to Malfoy. Without waiting a second longer Harry grabbed the menu.

_ The Hollow Manatee’s Valentine’s Special  _ was written in sparkly, red letters on the top of the black parchment, which was also, surprise surprise, covered in little hearts that were floating about the scroll. Harry’s eyes scanned the list, skipping over the starters ( _ The Initial Spark),  _ main courses ( _ Falling in Love) _ , and getting directly to the booze section ( _ Spiking it Up) _ , realizing he probably needed a drink more than anything else.

His eyes scanned the list, but nothing seemed familiar. He went from  _ Dante’s Inferno  _ (Bourbon, Homemade cherry tomato jam, lemon juice and smoked rosemary) to  _ Dementor’s Kiss _ (dark spiced rum, vodka, reposado tequila, sugar free vanilla syrup, coffee flavor water enhancer, activated charcoal, jalapeno, dried cloves, dried ginger, fresh lime, dried chipotle powder, sugar free ginger ale), passing through the more familiar  _ Priori Incantatem _ (Firewhiskey, blue curaçao, blueberries and sugar) and  _ Love Potion  _ (Rum, red wine, syrup, lime) but he couldn’t make his decision. He read through it again.

“Are you going to make a decision, Potter? You’re not the only one in dire need of a drink.”

Harry looked up to see Malfoy’s grey eyes on him, a look of proper annoyance on Malfoy’s face. He was leaning one elbow on the counter, very deliberately avoiding the rose petals, and his chin was resting in his palm. Feeling even more awkward than he did before, he pushed the menu in Malfoy’s direction. “Yes, I’ve decided, you can have a go now,” he said even though he still had absolutely no idea what he wanted.

Less than a minute later, however, Malfoy was gesturing to the bartender, who took his order before turning to Harry, who blurted out the first name he could recall from the menu. The bartender then took the menu and let them be.

Harry felt his heart sinking as he realized there was going to be another awkward silence before they got their drinks. Maybe this – sitting through this ‘date’ after all – was a terrible bad idea. What was he thinking? Him and Malfoy? In what world exactly could this work out?

“So why  _ did _ the Great Harry Potter sign up for such a discreet matchmaking service such as  _ Cupid Owl _ ?”

The question surprised Harry, who had expected to sit quietly for their drinks to arrive, tothen drink them quietly, and leave quietly and humiliated.

Now he was just humiliated.   
“I meant what I wrote to you,” Harry said, determined not to let his feelings show. “I think there’s value in first getting to know the person.” He paused for a second, then saw the doubtful look on Malfoy’s face. He sighed, and moved his hair from his forehead, exposing his scar, which hadn’t faded despite Voldemort being long gone, thank Merlin. “You can imagine that I rarely get any genuine interest, bearing this.”

Surprisingly enough, Malfoy nodded in understanding. “I guess being a hero has its downsides.”

Harry found himself relaxing, just a little bit. “It certainly does.”   
There was a pause, which was cut short by the bartender arriving with their drinks. Harry got his  _ Dante’s Inferno _ , which came in a traditional-looking cocktail glass. The dark red drink was topped with magical fire, and Malfoy got a short of Firewhiskey. Harry supposed he could have just gone for something simple like that, and now regretted ordering something fancy. “What about you?”

“Me?” Malfoy asked and took a sip from his drink. His face twisted at the bitterness. “You mean, why did I sign up?”

Harry nodded.

Malfoy arched his eyebrow. “Would you stay seated here with me if you knew who I was before interacting with me?”

“But we’ve been rivals since first year – “

“And what the whole Wizarding world knows about me is that I’m a Malfoy, and a former Death Eater, who started a war when he was merely sixteen. I am known as the son of a wizard who faced lifetime imprisonment at Azkaban for being You-Know-Who’s right hand. Even if you weren’t Harry Potter you wouldn’t be interacting with me, had you known who I was.”

An emotion – Pain? Sadness? Bitterness? – briefly passed through Malfoy’s otherwise sharp features. Focusing on him now, Harry realized how different he looked from the time they were in school. His features were still well defined. High cheekbones, sharp nose, pointed chin. But he was lacking the constant sense of self-importance he used to have as a schoolboy. There was still a hint of his former pride, although it was much more hidden, now.

Harry thought that this look, which was much more down to earth, suited him. At the same time, he realized too late that his question had beenstupid to begin with. Who  _ would’ve _ gotten themselves involved with the son of a criminal, who was a criminal himself, only saved from sentence in Azkaban due to his young age and a, rather late, change of heart?

Could  _ Harry _ do this  _ now _ , knowing what he did, and after getting to know him without any prejudice?

“I’m sorry,” he said, and took a sip from his drink. The warm flames tickled his skin. “It was silly to ask.”

“Whatever, Potter.” Malfoy downed the rest of his Firewhiskey, glanced at Harry’s still full glass, and then gestured to the bartender to get him another round. “Do you really live in a Muggle neighborhood?”

Harry was surprised by the question. “Yeah. It makes escaping the media much easier. You’d think that after a decade since the War ended and Vol – You Know Who,” (he stopped himself, realizing that while he, and the people close to him, did not fear the name anymore, someone like Draco Malfoy might) “died, they’d leave me alone. But no.”

“Yes, I still see you trying to hide your face in the  _ Daily Prophet _ . Though it doesn’t seem like they have much to write about you. I assume it was true that you broke up with that Weasley girl. Good thing you did. I knew right from the start she wasn’t right for you.”

Harry’s eyebrow arched up. “Is that so? And who  _ was _ right for me in your opinion?  _ You _ ?”

Malfoy lip twisted up. “You are sitting with me at a bar on Valentine’s Day, aren’t you?” he said. He thanked the bartender when he brought his second Firewhiskey, which allowed Harry to take a moment to try and digest what he’d just heard.   
“But no, I meant that you just didn’t seem to quite  _ fit _ together. Merlin knows how you became such a good friend with Ronald but her…,” he shrugged, “it seemed more like she was your fangirl, not girlfriend. I suppose I was right, considering,” he paused, “and who knew you’d actually be into men. I’m surprised the  _ Prophet _ didn’t catch on to that yet. Would’ve sold piles of their useless paper.”

“Well, I didn’t know  _ you _ were into men, either.”

“Really?” Malfoy looked like he was genuinely surprised. “I guess you really are as thick-headed as you look. I dated Blaise for a while. All of Slytherin house knew it.”

“You – you did?” Harry said back, and took another sip of his drink. True to its name, it was rather strong. Or Harry was a lightweight and not very used to alcoholic drinks anymore. “I don’t think this made it to Gryffindor.”

“Because since when do Gryffindors care about anything other than themselves?”

“Slytherins aren’t much better either, you know.”

Malfoy looked at him as if he was going to challenge that, but instead he simply said, “True,” and finished his second Firewhiskey before ordering a third. Harry was about to comment on it, when he remembered that Malfoy actually  _ owned _ a bar. He was probably well practiced in the art of drinking.

Harry focused on his own beverage , feeling like he was lagging behind, not being done with his first one yet.

It was two drinks (Harry’s) and seven drinks (Malfoy’s) later that they found themselves discussing the owl post they had been sending to each other over the past three months, while carefully avoiding the more loaded topics; from Malfoy’s bar, to Harry’s job, and the Snitch he gifted Malfoy for Christmas and the cookies he received back.

“You know, Malfoy, if someone would’ve told me, when we were still in school, that you were going to end up enjoying cooking – and  _ baking _ – and being actually  _ decent _ at it, I would’ve laughed at their faces.”

“’ _ Decent _ ’? I am bloody brilliant at it,” Malfoy replied. “You yourself wrote to me that you couldn’t stop eating them and that you had to put a locking-charm on two so you could share them with your friends, which, I now realize, were probably Granger and Weasley.” He paused, then looked disgusted. “I can’t  _ believe _ you let those two eat my cookies!”

“Well, they did enjoy them very much. Ron even said that you’re a keeper.”

“Did he, now!”

“Well, yes. And I would’ve agreed with him if it wasn’t for your intro, claiming you liked sunsets and cuddling.”

Malfoy pointed at Harry with his pinky finger as he was holding up his (ninth? Tenth?) Firewhisky glass. “What makes you think I wasn’t serious about that?”

“Because it is the most cliché thing anyone could write on a dating profile.”

“Well, it is true! Just like everything else on my dating profile.”

“I beg to differ.” Harry said back, sipping from his  _ Priori Incantatem.  _ A beautiful blue shone inside his glass. He sort of wished his smartphone was there to take a picture, but the damn thing wouldn’t work in a Wizarding bar.

“Really? Please, enlighten me! What did I lie about in my  _ Cupid Owl _ application form?”

Harry tried to think, but it was rather hard, with at least four drinks in his system. He concentrated, looking at Malfoy, as if he could find any hints there. But Malfoy was looking back at him, smug as ever, his grey eyes challenging Harry to find –

“I know! You claimed you have  _ light-blue _ eyes. Either you’re colour-blind, or you lied.”

“Excuse me?” Malfoy straightened up. “My eyes  _ are _ light blue!”

“Colour-blind it is, then?”

“Maybe  _ you _ are! I think I know what colour my eyes are! I’ve had them for twenty-eight years already!”

“Well then, you’re  _ wrong _ .”

“No,  _ you _ are. My eyes are light-blue. It’s just that most of the time my eyelashes make them look grey.”

Harry had to place his drink down and put his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. “Your  _ eyelashes _ . Yeah, alright, Malfoy. Whatever you say.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Well, then – come see for yourself!”

Harry stopped laughing, and instead looked at Malfoy. Had he gone mad? “Looking into your eyes?”

“If you don’t believe me, then yes!”

Harry thought about it for a moment. Getting close enough to see into Malfoy’s eyes, especially in this dim-lit room, would be way too intimate, which would be awkward, and weird. But if he didn’t get closer to take a look at Malfoy’s eye colour, it would be perceived as admitting he was wrong, and Malfoy was right. Unacceptable.

He leaned closer. “Come here. I’ll prove you wrong.”

Malfoy seemed to hesitate, too, for a second, as if he didn’t really expect Harry to accept the challenge; but he leaned forward nonetheless, opening his eyes and looking directly at Harry. It still wasn’t close enough, so Harry moved even closer. He ignored the way he could feel Malfoy’s breath fluttering over his nose and lips, ignored the way it made his heart beat in his chest, and focused on his eyes, instead.

It was still very hard to see, as whatever little light there was in the bar, was red, and pinkish, and just a little bit orange. He grunted in annoyance, and moved just a little bit closer. He felt his face burning, unsure whether it was because of all the cocktails he’d drunk or because he was incredibly, uncomfortably aware that their noses were touching, and that with the slightest movement he would feel Malfoy’s lips. It was so tempting…

…and terrifying.

Harry swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, hearing the sudden hoarseness in his voice; hoping Malfoy would attribute it to the alcohol. “Fine. I agree. You were right. They’re light blue.”

Malfoy smiled. Harry couldn’t see it, rather, he felt it. The lightest brush against his lips as Malfoy’s lips moved. He should move away. He knew it. That’s it, he had checked the theory, proved Malfoy right, admitted that he had been wrong. There were no more reasons to stay so close.

“I know. I don’t lie, Potter.”

Harry could feel that ‘P’. A light, almost undetectable touch, but very clearly there. Neither of them moved for a few seconds. Harry could swear he could cut the tension between them with a knife; if there was enough space between them to insert that knife, that is.

“Harry.”

The sound of his given name spoken in Malfoy’s voice, soft, trembling, questioning, so unlike the way he said his last name, caught Harry by surprise. It sounded so different than the way anyone had ever said it before. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. Or was it the music? “Yes, Draco?” he found himself asking.

“I am going to kiss you.”

_ Ba-boom. Ba-boom _ . Certainly his heart. Or was it Draco’s heart?

“Okay.”

He could barely finish the word before he felt Draco’s lips closing on his. Not fluttering, brushing, or accidental touching. Even if it was a bit hesitant at first, Draco was kissing him. His lips felt soft, making Harry very aware of his own lips, which he rarely bothered to take care of. But that didn’t seem to bother Draco as he parted his lips and gently slid his tongue against Harry’s, wordlessly requesting permission, which Harry found himself giving gladly. He moved his hand to hold onto the back of Draco’s head, pulling him slightly closer as their kiss deepened. Draco tasted – mostly of Firewhiskey, but also of something that was so completely  _ him _ . He felt Draco’s hand being placed on his knee and Harry moved his other hand to place in on top of Draco’s. It felt cold, and just a little bit sticky from the whiskey – but he couldn’t get enough. He weaved his fingers with Draco’s, and was surprised when Draco moved his hand to hold it firmly.

It was as if the whole room disappeared; the music, the annoying scent, the kitschy atmosphere, the past they shared; all that was left was just the two of them, in this very moment, in this kiss.

And then it ended.

Slowly, almost like he didn’t want to, Draco pulled away. The feeling of loss was immediate, making Harry want to follow him; but instead he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and looked at Draco.

“Well,” Draco said, snapping Harry back into the present.

Harry straightened in his seat. “Well.”

“That was… nice.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah, I suppose so. Yes.”

“We should probably head out.”

The statement surprised Harry, but when he looked around, he realized that the lights were not so dim anymore, and that they were the last customers at the place. How long had they spent here, talking? Harry felt bad for keeping the employees there after closing hours.

“Yeah. Looks like we should.”

“Do you… uh, do you want to come over to my place?” Draco suggested, but then – maybe it was something in Harry’s surprised expression – he quickly added, “of course, I will definitely understand if you don’t – “

“No,” Harry said, and, seeing the disappointment on Draco’s face, realized he had been misunderstood. “No, I do not not want to. I mean, I’d love to. If you want me to.”

Draco smiled. Not one of the smirks Harry was used to from him; but a genuine, warm smile, that lit his light-blue eyes, making them look even more grey than they usually did. It was beautiful.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”


	8. Epilogue

_ The Boy Who Lived to be Queer _

__

_ This is a shocking morning for many _

_ single (and married) witches as the Wizarding World finds out that our hero, _

_ The Boy Who Lived turned out to be – gay! Harry Potter was spotted last night bar _

_ (February 14 _ _ th _ _ , which is no other than Valentine’s Day, also known as Lover’s _

_ Day) at a small wizarding at the company of another man. _

_ Potter’s last relationship had been with a woman – Ginevra Weasly, a pure-blooded witch from a long line of witches and wizards and the youngest (and only) sister to six brothers who is also the valued Seeker for the all-female Quidditch team The Holyhead Harpies. Weasley had brought several winnings for her team, however, they never managed to make it to the top of the chart. Potter and Weasley dated since their highschool days, as was reported by their classmates. There were even reports that they were planning to get married when suddenly it was reported first on Witch Weekly (Issue 23862, November 18 _ _ th _ _ , 2005) that the couple had broken up. _

_ Before her, it was reported that _

_ Potter dated his classmate, the bright Muggle-born and current Auror Hermione _

_ Granger, who is now married to no other than Potter’s best friend and his _

_ ex-fiance’s brother, Ronald Weasly. What a complicated love situation. _

_ The whole Wizarding World was _

_ expecting to hear about Potter meeting another witch, after various reports and _

_ dating rumors that have spread about Potter over the past three years, but it _

_ seems that Potter’s heart lays elsewhere. _

_As mentioned, he was spotted having a sweet Valentine’s date with another man._ _And not just another man! Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, who currently serves his sentence at Azkaban. The two seemed to be sharing quite an evening, talking and laughing over drinks. However the crescendo of the night came when right before closing time, the two were witnessed sharing a rather passionate kiss! This is no mistake, wizards and witches, and it is not an April Fools trick. The two were also witnessed leaving together to an unknown location._

_ Had Potter forgiven this former Death Eater for all of his crimes? Had the two been making up for their widely known rivalry (they even played the same role on their rival Quidditch teams at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where they were both attending as teenagers, and rumor has it that the games between the two could get quite violent!), or had they been covering the passion between them all along? _

_ Is this the first sign of forgiving past crimes and the beginning of a beautiful romance, or is this just an experiment? At this point it is unclear, but you can be sure that we at TMI will keep you posted. _

Draco looked at the picture that was placed, large and bold, in the middle of the page. It had him and Harry at  _ The Hollow Manatee _ , sitting at the bar, and kissing. Clearly the person who took this picture was sitting nearby – at the bar. He had no idea there was a reporter there.

He looked up at Harry hesitantly, nervous to see his reaction. “Do you… does this bother you?”

Draco had a moment when he thought he might get a panic attack while Harry was staring at the article. He couldn’t read his expression. Would he be mad? Was he regretting spending the night at Draco’s place?

Harry finally turned to look at him, and Draco braced himself to whatever may come. But Harry smiled softly at him, and leaned a bit closer to place a short kiss on his lips. “Not at all. Do you?”

The tension Draco had been holding in his body eased away at once. He smiled back. “I don’t, either.”


End file.
